


Show Me How You Do

by justkisa



Category: Football RPF, MCFC RPF
Genre: F/M, Multi, Unsafe Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-27
Updated: 2013-06-27
Packaged: 2017-12-16 07:30:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/859508
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justkisa/pseuds/justkisa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Samir and David hook up with a woman in a club except it's less about hooking up and more about all the things they never talk about.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Show Me How You Do

**Author's Note:**

> Set during MCFC's recent US tour. Specifically in NYC.

It’s hot inside the club. The back of Samir’s shirt is damp with sweat and it’s sticking to his skin. Making his way through the crowd to the bar had been a battle but making his way back to David, drinks in hand, is even worse. There are people everywhere and it’s impossible to move without bumping into someone. 

He finally makes it through the crowd and finds David exactly where he’d left him. The girl he’d been talking to when Samir’d left is still there. She’s sitting next to David. Light flashes across her face and he really looks at her for the first time. She’s pretty with dark hair and dark eyes. 

She’d recognized David before. She’d come up to him and started talking to him in Spanish. Samir’d been able to pick out a word here and there, enough to know she’d been overenthusiastic, had been gushing over David. 

The lights swirl painting her and David in an odd mix of light and shadow. She’s sweating and she shines where the light catches her, across her cleavage, her throat. A strand of her hair’s wrapped around her throat, stuck to her skin. 

Someone bumps into him pushing him forward until he’s right against the table in front of David. He leans across the table. Sweat slides down the back of his neck. David has his hand under the girl’s skirt. He puts David’s drink down then looks up. David smiles, slow and open.

Samir looks back down. David still has his hand under the girl’s skirt. He looks up again. The girl tips her head back and her mouth falls open. Maybe she makes some kind of sound but the music’s so loud he can’t be sure. Her mouth is full and painted a dark, slick red. Her hair is sticking to the sides of her face, to her neck. “Sit,” David says, just loud enough to be heard over the music. 

The girl’s head falls forward and she blinks at him, like she’s just noticing he’s standing there. She’s heavily made up. Her eyes are outlined in dark, dramatic lines and her eyelashes are spiky and black. She smiles at him. Her mouth still open so her smile’s a loose, barely formed thing. She’d said her name earlier - Nina or Natalia - he can’t remember. Her eyes flutter closed and her mouth falls open, wiping away her smile. He can see her tongue pressed to her teeth and this time he can hear the sound she makes. 

He puts his drink on the table. He sits down next to her but he leaves a certain amount of space between them. He’s close enough, though, that he can smell her - sweat and a strong, sweet-spicy perfume. He glances across her. David’s staring at him.

It’s hot back here in the dark corner David’s chosen, stifling, worse than it had been out on the floor. He feels like everything he’s wearing is damp, like the thick, humid air itself is sticking to his skin.

David smiles. His mouth is wet and red - the color of the girl’s lipstick. The top two buttons of his shirt are undone. They hadn’t been when Samir’d left him to go to the bar. His shirt’s falling open. Samir stares at the dip of his collarbone, at the sheen of sweat on his skin. He looks down. David still has his hand under the girl’s skirt. Her legs slip wider apart and her knee nudges into his leg. David’s staring at him, all wide, dark eyes and a smile that’s half challenge, half invitation. 

Samir looks away, looks out at the masses of people moving and dancing under the multicolored, flashing lights. The girl’s knee is warm against his thigh. This close to her he can’t miss the noises she’s making, low, gasping breaths interspersed with soft, hitching moans. 

He picks up his drink. It’s still cold and the glass is slick with condensation. He takes a sip. The coolness of the drink’s a welcome shock, a moment’s respite from the unpleasant, syrupy stickiness of the air. He puts the glass back down. He hears David murmur something soft and indistinct and then the girl touches his hand. 

He glances at her. Her head’s tilted back, resting against the wall. David’s whispering in her ear but she’s looking at him. She touches his hand again then settles her hand over his. Her palm is warm and tacky with sweat. He looks down at their entangled hands. Her hand is small, her fingers slender. She has a ring on her thumb, a wide band of silver that shines dully under the flashing lights. Her nails are long and painted a dark, shimmering color. She squeezes his hand and her nails dig into his skin. The metal of her ring is slightly cooler than the rest of her hand. It’s an unexpected contrast to the hot, sweaty grasp of her hand. 

She picks up his hand and puts it on her knee. His hand lands awkwardly with his fingers folded under. She lets go of his hand. He wishes he could remember her name. She shifts next to him and presses her thigh to his. 

He looks across her. David’s watching him. He has that look he gets on the pitch, the one that taunts, _well, come on then, let’s see what you can do_. They’ve played two whole seasons together and David still hasn’t stopped looking at him like that, like he’s waiting for Samir to impress him. And, fuck that, Samir’s not trying to impress David, not on the pitch or off it, but the smirking challenge in that look still digs under his skin, still makes him try just that much harder. And, sometimes, it makes him look at David hoping to see something else. He never does. 

He flattens his hand out and spreads it over the girl’s knee. Her skin is warm, smooth and slick enough with sweat that his fingers slide easily across it. He rubs his thumb along the side of her knee and she pushes her thigh against his. David’s still watching him. He holds David’s stare and runs his hand up her leg, skimming his fingers along the inside of her thigh. He stops at the edge of her skirt. David’s mouth tips down into a disappointed curve. 

Samir looks away from him and looks at the girl. Her eyes are closed, her lashes thick and dark against her skin. Her eyeliner’s smudged a bit at the corners of her eyes. He leans in and says in her ear, “Tell me your name.” 

She opens her eyes and turns towards him. Her hair brushes across his face. She smiles and says, “Nina.”

He strokes his thumb along her thigh. “Hi, Nina. I’m Samir.” 

She leans in closer and smiles wider. “I know,” she says. She has an accent. It’s not quite like David’s, more like Sergio’s.

“This,” he says, edging his hand under her skirt, “is okay?” She bites at the corner of her lower lip, lowers her eyelids, and nods. He slides his hand a little farther under her skirt. “Say it,” he says, “for me, okay?”

She looks back up. She licks her lips. “Yes,” she says. She kisses the corner of his mouth. “Please.” Her breath is humid and warm against his cheek. He turns and kisses her. She opens her mouth for him, yielding before he even thinks to coax her to. He slides his hand the rest of the way under her skirt. She tastes like limes and burnt sugar edged with the bitter astringency of alcohol. She kisses like she knows what she wants and isn’t ashamed of it. 

He pushes his hand up her thigh. She isn’t wearing underwear. There’s nothing at the crease of her thigh except more skin and coarse curls of hair. His knuckles nudge against David’s hand. He moves his hand farther up, edges it across her stomach and pushes his fingers through the damp curls of her pubic hair. It’s, at best, an awkward angle but he slants his fingers down and brushes his fingertips over her clit. She moans, startled and low, against his mouth. He does it again. 

She pulls away slightly but stays close enough that he can feel her breath against his mouth. He pushes his fingers farther down, trying to find a better position. She shifts under his hand, her hips pushing up. “Oh,” she says, “ _oh_ ,” then something in Spanish. Her skin is wet - slippery - and not just with sweat. She shifts again. He finds her clit again and strokes it as best he can. She makes a low, sharp sound and kisses him. She pushes up against his hand. His hand slips down and his fingers jam into David’s.

David’s fingers are inside her. He can feel where she’s stretched open by his fingers. He presses his fingertips there. David’s fingers are almost all the way inside her. He brushes his fingertips across the base of David’s fingers - his palm. She’s so wet and David’s fingers - his palm - are sticky with it - soaked. David slowly pulls his fingers out of her then pushes them back in just as slowly. They slide easily against Samir’s fingertips. 

Nina gasps. She pulls away from him. Her head lolls back agains the wall and he can see David again. He’s looking straight at him, not at Nina, at _him_. Nina’s hips stutter up and she makes a low, frustrated sound. David smiles, slow and a bit mocking, and, every time he smiles at Samir that way he wants to wipe that look right off his face, wants to punch him right in that smile and watch him bleed. 

He shifts his hand back up and touches Nina with purpose. He strokes her, rubs at her clit until her hips are pushing up in a restless rhythm and she’s panting - moaning - loud enough that he can hear her over the music. David’s fucking his fingers in and out of her and his fingers keep glancing against Samir’s. He watches David, doesn’t look away, not even when Nina comes, shuddering and shaking under his hand. He watches David until David look away and leans over to kiss Nina. 

Samir flattens his hand against her stomach and watches them kiss. He licks his lips. He can still taste her - lime and a hint of sweetness - on his lips. He wonders, if he kissed her now, would she taste different? Would she taste like David?

She has her hand in David’s hair, clutching at him like she’s trying to pull him even closer. Samir slides his hand back down and drags his fingers over her clit. She shudders and her hips twitch up. David’s taken his hand away so he slides his fingers along her pussy. She’s so wet it’s easy to push one finger then another into her. She pushes up against his hand. He slips his fingers out of her and wipes them on her thigh. He drags his fingers back to her clit. 

David’s kissing her neck now, one of his hands is on her breast. She’s watching Samir. She smiles at him, slow and a little dazed. Her lipstick’s smudged at the corners of her mouth. There’s sweat dripping down her temples. When he touches her, her head tips back and her mouth falls open. David’s whispering in her ear now and Samir wonders, idly, what he’s saying. It doesn’t really matter. He strokes her until she comes again. She comes faster this time but she’s quieter. She bites down on her lower lip and barely makes a sound. 

David kisses her throat just under her ear then he straightens up and looks at Samir. Samir looks away and pulls his hand out from under Nina’s skirt. David stands up and Nina does too and Samir thinks, that’s it, it’s over, whatever this is, it’s done. They’ll go off and fuck or she’ll get down on her knees for David and he’ll stay here, his hand still sticky from getting her off twice. 

Nina sways a bit as she stands and David steadies her by wrapping an arm around her waist. Samir’s about to pick up his long-abandoned drink so he has something to do, so he doesn’t have to watch them walk away, but Nina holds out her hand and smiles at him. He looks at David. David quirks his eyebrows up and smiles with half his mouth. His expression’s sly, like a dare. Samir can’t - won’t - back down, not from a look like that. He wipes his hand on his jeans then reaches out and takes Nina’s hand. 

They stumble their way through the crowd. David still has his arm wrapped around Nina. Samir tries to let go of her hand but she laces their fingers together and holds on tight. There’s a hazy unreality to the whole thing. The people they pass seem like faceless ghosts in the dark. The flashing, colored lights create a kind of surreal, fantasy atmosphere. The air’s sultry and humid and he feels like it’s wrapping around him, strangling him. The only real thing is Nina’s hand in his, the way her palm is almost unpleasantly slick with sweat, the way their fingers stick together, the way her ring digs into this thumb. 

He doesn’t know where they end up, doesn’t even notice they’ve left the crowd until he realizes he hasn’t bumped into anyone for several steps. He looks around, trying to figure out just where he is but he doesn’t get the chance. Nina drops his hand and pushes him back. He hits a wall, a wall he hadn’t even noticed was there. He doesn’t have a chance think about that either because Nina’s there, crowding into him, running her hands up his chest. 

There’s just enough light that he can see her smile, can see the contrast of her darkly painted mouth against the white flash of her teeth. He looks up, away from her mouth, and finds David staring at him over her shoulder. Nina slides her hands down his chest, pushes up his shirt and hooks her fingers into his waistband. “Okay?” she says.

“Yes,” he says, “Okay.” 

She doesn’t fumble as she unfastens the button of his jeans or when she pulls down his zipper. David wraps his arms around her and cups her breasts. She’s wearing a black, strapless top that shows off her breasts. David pulls it down. She’s wearing a bra - also black - and Samir might have thought more about why she’s wearing a bra but no underwear but that’s when she wraps her hand around his cock and it suddenly doesn’t seem worth thinking about. 

David drags her bra down until her breasts spill out. Her hand on him doesn’t falter, though, until David cups her breasts in his hands and rolls one of her nipples between his thumb and forefinger. She sighs and her hand stutters to a stop on his cock. He sighs too, without meaning to, low and choked. David does it again. She shifts between them and says something soft and broken in Spanish. He shifts too, pushes towards her, trying to encourage her to touch him, to move her hand again. 

David murmurs something to her, so low Samir can’t make it out, and she starts moving her hand on his cock again. He wonders, then, how much of this she’s doing because David’s asked her to. He’s not sure he wants to know the answer. He leans in and kisses her because that’s easier than thinking about it. She tastes different than before, he thinks, less sweet, like David he thinks, or maybe he’s imagining things. It isn’t like he knows what David’s mouth tastes like. She nips at his lower lip, takes the kiss to a dirty, messy place and he lets her. 

She’s working his cock faster now. He digs his nails into his palms. He should do something with his hands, should do something besides kissing her and letting her touch him. He fumbles his hands over her hips or tries. One of his hands glances off her hip and lands on David’s side. He flexes his hand and catches David’s shirt between his fingers. He pulls away from Nina and looks at David. 

David’s smiling. He can’t parse David’s smile, can’t grasp it’s meaning, not as dazed as he is from Nina’s touch, her kiss, and the sticky, oppressive heat. He digs his fingers into David’s side. David’s mouth falls open and he momentarily looks as dazed as Samir feels. Then he’s smiling again, slow and wicked. He runs his tongue along his bottom lip, leaving it shiny and wet and Samir doesn’t know what that means any more than he’d known what to make of David’s smile. 

He looks away, looks back at Nina. Her face is flushed and sweat is making her makeup run. Her smile, though, is easy to understand. He kisses her for the distraction, for the easy, uncomplicated pleasure of it. He leaves his hand on David’s side. She makes a sound, high-pitched, edging towards a whine, and gasps into the kiss. He nips at her lower lip and goes to kiss her but she gasps again, louder this time, and pulls away. Her hand stutters to a stop on his cock. 

He opens his eyes. Her head’s tipped back against David’s shoulder. He stares at the arched column of her throat, at the glitter of her long, dangly earrings caught in her hair, at the sweat pooling in the notch of her collarbone. Then he looks down at her breasts. David still has one hand on her breast and his other hand-- He looks down. David has her skirt hitched up and his hand’s between her legs. He could look at David - at his face - but he half-thinks David’s done this to _make_ Samir look at him. So he doesn’t. He won’t give David the satisfaction.

He draws his hand up Nina’s side and cups her breast. It more than fills his hand. Her skin’s soft and damp with sweat. Her nipple’s furled into a tight peak. He rolls her nipple between his fingers and leans down to kiss her just under her jaw. He can feel the sounds she’s making against his mouth, hear the hum of them right in his ear. He kisses his way down her neck, licking and nipping at her skin. She tastes like salt and a trace of something that reminds him of smoke. He can smell her perfume, strong and spicy-sweet and barely overpowering the smell of sweat. He can smell David, too, just a trace of him, the cologne he favors, the familiar sweat-damp smell of him that Samir knows from the pitch. 

He tightens his grip on David’s side and hears a sound that might be David but might be Nina. He can’t be sure. He doesn’t raise his head until she comes, gasping and shuddering between them. Once she stills, he lifts his head. He licks his lips. His mouth is saturated with the taste of her skin. He slides his hand down, away from her breast, and rests it flat against the bunched up fabric of her shirt and her bra. He loosens his grip on David but, for some reason, he’s not ready to let him go so he leaves his hand splayed across his side. 

David’s face is turned toward Nina’s and he’s whispering in her ear. Samir catches a few fragmented scraps of Spanish. Then David looks right at him and smiles like he knows something Samir doesn’t. He smiles at Samir that way a lot and he hates it every single time. He lets his hand drop from David’s side. If David notices or cares, Samir can’t tell. 

Nina straightens up between them, putting herself between him and David’s smile. She smiles at him, slow and pleased and like she knows what David knows. She moves like she’s going to go to her knees and she’s already there by the time he manages to say, “You don’t, Nina, you don’t have to.”

“I know,” she says, “I want to, “ and there’s a certain twist to her smile that suggests that she only ever does things that _she_ wants to do. 

He usually likes to watch when someone sucks his cock but, in the dimness and with him still mostly dressed, all he can see is the top of her head and the spill of her hair over her shoulders. She sucks him without hesitation or inhibition. He almost reaches out to touch her, to thread his fingers through her hair, but that seems an intimacy he hasn’t been invited to. So, instead, he fists his hands, leans back against the wall and just enjoys it. 

It leaves him looking straight at David, though, who’s watching him not Nina. He’s not smiling anymore. All he’s doing is staring at Samir, his lips parted like he’s about to say something. But he never does. All he does is stare. Samir doesn’t know what to make of it so he closes his eyes and decides not to care about it, decides not care about anything but the perfect, wet slide of Nina’s mouth on his cock.

By the time he comes, he’s far gone enough that, when he tries to warn Nina, he forgets English, starts to say it in French. He catches himself, manages, “Nina, I--” She doesn’t stop or pull away until he’s finished. 

When he opens his eyes, she’s already turned away from him and is facing David. David has his hand in her hair but he’s still staring straight at Samir. Samir looks down and does up his pants. It takes him two tries to do up the button on his jeans. He can hear David’s low, gasping moans and the soft, wet sounds of Nina sucking him. He doesn’t look. 

David plants his hand in the middle of Samir’s chest. It startles him into looking up. David’s eyes are wide and dark, unfocused, like he’s not really seeing Samir even though he’s looking straight at him. His hair is damp with sweat and starting to stick to his forehead. His mouth is open, his lips wet, like he’s just licked them. His chest is visibly heaving and Samir can hear his fast, heavy breathing.

He looks down at where David’s other hand is tangled in Nina’s hair. He stares at her, at the contrast of her dark hair against the creamy, tanned skin of her shoulders and back, at the way her hair shifts and spills over her shoulders as she bobs her head. Her hair catches on her sweat-damp skin sticking to it in strange, abstract patterns. He can’t see her mouth on David’s cock and he doesn’t know if that disappoints him or not. 

David’s hand is hot agains his chest and the press of it’s making his shirt stick wetly to his skin. He wraps his hand around David’s wrist. David’s wrist is slight and fits into the circle of his hand with room to spare. He can feel David’s pulse skitter and jump against his fingertips. David digs his fingers into Samir’s chest and grabs a fistful of his shirt like he thinks Samir’s going to pull his hand away. Samir had half-thought to do just that but he doesn’t. He leaves his hand where it is, though, because fuck if he’s going to just stand there passively in David’s grip. 

When David comes, his eyes flutter closed and he pushes his hand hard against Samir’s chest. He says something muttered and slurred in Spanish. Samir squeezes his wrist. David opens his eyes and looks right at him.

Then it’s over and David’s letting him go and helping Nina to her feet. He’s smiling at her. He even helps her rearrange her bra and top. He says something that makes her laugh. Samir feels out of place, somehow, removed from their easy, friendly give and take. She kisses David and says something in his ear that makes him smile a smile Samir’s only ever seen him give to teammates and friends. 

She turns towards Samir. He smiles at her because she’s easy enough to smile at. She smiles back and leans in to kiss the corner of his mouth. “Have fun in the City,” she says, “Okay,” and kisses the other side of his mouth. She’s gone, slipping away into the darkness, before he can respond. 

With her gone, there’s nothing - no one - between him and David. David steps forward and Samir steps back. Except there’s nowhere to go and he clatters into the wall. David takes another step forward and then another and then he’s so close it’s almost like Samir can _feel_ him even though they aren’t touching at all. 

David leans in, so close Samir can almost taste him, and he’s sure, for a slow, stretched out moment, that David’s going to kiss him. He licks his lips. David sucks in a short hiss of a breath. “You have,” David says.

Samir has to swallow before he can speak. “What?”

David hums and purses his lips. “You have,” he says again, reaching up to touch Samir’s mouth, “on mouth, you have...” He rubs his fingers across Samir’s mouth. Samir feels unpleasantly overheated, a bit dizzy. He’s not sure he wants David’s fingers there, on his mouth, but he’s not sure he doesn’t. He opens his mouth, to say something, maybe, and his tongue flicks across David’s fingers. 

David steps back. “There,” he says, “Gone.” 

“David,” he says, because there’s something to be said now, something to be asked now, “Dav-”

“Is better,” David interrupts, smiling a little, “Is not, I think, color for you.” 

“David,” he says again because he wants to ask something, he’s not sure what, but something, wants to know something, anything, about what’s just happened. 

David turns away. “Come,” he says, “I buy you a drink.”

Samir almost says his name again, almost pushes for an answer to a question that isn’t even fully formed in his mind, but damned if he’s going to push - to beg - if David’s going to act indifferent to it all. He pushes off the wall and shoves past David. “I’ll buy,” he says and walks away. He doesn’t look back to see if David’s following him.


End file.
